My grandma taught my Mom who repeated it to me, "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all!" and... "If you look hard enough, you can find some good in every one." My Grandma (her pet name for me was "Obbie"...for some reason, I didn't pronouce "Grandma" and "Awe-bee" was the name she answered to when I was a small child. Even her neighbors & lots of friends called her "Obbie" throughout the years of my growing up. She was a "hired girl" on farms when she was a teenager...she was married and divorced at a young age...she was widowed after another marriage to my grandpa of 26 yrs...she worked in a bakery, she operated a cafe, she ironed clothes in her home for other families...she was always a HARD worker!...she passed that on to her 3 daughters & family. Here are some of my precious memories of my Grandma, Obbie that I wrote back in 1984 for a genealogy book my Mom created: In the back yard, Obbie had lots of flower gardens. I once found the cactus garden with my bare feet when I jumped a fence playing (where I shouldn't have been)! There were also lots of sour grapes, good ripe strawbeeries and lots of green apples. We were never without homegrown food at Obbie's. And, oh, that homemade jar of strawberry jam. Of course, inside the house, there were always homemade chocolate chip cookies. And on Sundays, the smell of Obbie frying chicken (that my 'grandpa butchered). Anyone was welcome to show up for Sunday dinner! Obbie taught me a few of the things every woman was supposed to know before growing up. The ol' treadle sewing machine put out lots of doll clothes and pin cushions. Crocheting chain stitches (by the miles). Obbie crocheted each grandchild an afghan for graduation. Never being bored at Obbie's, there were always old catalogs for cutting out paper dolls and clothes. (Ok, Gjers, I could go on & on...but I just want you to know that I was very blessed...I was a "crouper" as a child and finally outgrew it at 12 yrs. old...but my Obbie would always come running when I got sick...with "warm 7-up" and hugs. Anyway, I will end this post with a poem I wrote for this genealogy book (she died when my first grandchild was 4 mos. old): "My grandma, Obbie, always had time for her grandchildren. She was never too busy to forget us. I am the lucky one even to have had Obbie for my grandma... If I can be as strong, as you were strong, If I can give, as you have given, If I can be kind, as you always were kind, If I am loved, as you are loved, If I am cherised, as you are cherished, If I am mourned, as you are mourned, Then I can say..my life is truly blessed. Obbie passed on her love for gardening & flowers to me...as my grandpa did also...and my Dad. Here is a pic that I am so fortunate to have of my Grandma holding me in her backyard...I lived in the same household the first 2 yrs. of my life...and her LOVE shaped my life. Ahhh, pretty sentimental stuff...but I enjoyed all of your sharing and wanted to share a bit of this special lady! Thanks, Jeanne S.

"There is to much you have to excuse or put up with to have someone in your life. I just want peace for the rest of my life, so am becoming a contented recluse." Stargazer, I agree with you! Couldn't have said it better myself. To the OP, it sounds like your parents cannot adjust to your being a Mom. They almost sound jealous....quite frankly, I would move on with my life and enjoy my son and husband --- if your in-laws are good to you, you are very lucky. It isn't in your power to make your parents change - some folks just like being miserable. Good luck to you

I fully agree with this statement. We take everyday that we get to share with our grandson as memories that are special to each of us and that can never be taken away and/or changed.

Notes on "The Go-Between" by L. P. Hartley (1953). "The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there." Well written, this novel focuses on the memory of an elderly man who is reflecting on the summer of his twelfth year which he spent at the home of a wealthy family of one of his school friends. (Another bildungsroman, it seems.) It's contrasted strongly with his own home life (which is poorer) and Leo, the protagonist, is acutely aware of the "right" things to do and say. It's also a balance between the social codes of his boarding school (which he and his friend attend) and what is appropriate for this summer visit. It's a rather fraught novel, I think, which has the overall impression of impending doom. (This is clearly mentioned on the back blurb though, so not giving the game away.) Hartley has done an excellent job of seeing through the eyes of a twelve year old at the beginning of the twentieth century in England. His recollections of how he viewed the world were spot on (to me), and his lush descriptions of endless summer days during school holidays is perfectly accurate: lengthy days, lassitude, and not much to do except mess around. Perhaps I had an odd childhood in the 1970's, but this was very close to how I remember my childhood growing up (although it might be burnished with the glow of memory.) These endless days of summer are also a great conduit for illustrating the impending doom (uncertain though that may be). The increasing temperatures (checked daily by the protagonist on the outbuilding's thermometer) links with the perceived increasing pressure of whatever news is to come, and thunderstorms hang in the air like heavy clouds. It's really well done. Leo is very interested in things of an astral nature: the signs of the Zodiac, his nickname of Mercury (the messenger in Roman mythology who wore winged sandals) and he half-believes that he has the power to control external forces such as the weather and sometimes other people's behavior and choices through magical curses (or spells, but mostly curses). The title comes mostly from the fact that Leo is tasked with taking messages between the young lady of the house and a local farmer, a totally unsuitable match that can only be conducted in secret. At first, Leo feels privileged to have been asked, but as the summer progresses and things get more complicated, it becomes a burden and a political minefield. The reader also learns the event that caused all the upheaval and led to a troubled adult life for Leo, but I shall say nothing here. (Don't want to give the story away. Suffice to say, it's good.) The Go-Between could also be interpreted to mean Leo's having to move between social classes, uncertain of how he should behave with whom (not only with him having to adapt to the higher social class, but also having to balance his friendship with the local farmer, a working class guy. And class was everything at this time.) ...